


Faux Pas

by bzarcher



Series: Assemblé [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Biting, Discussion of electricity play, Discussion of rope play, Discussion of strap-ons, Explicit Consent, F/F, Female Ejaculation, Femslash, Français | French, Grinding, Hilarity ensues., Kissing, Language Kink, Languages, Light BDSM, Marking, Oral Sex, Podfic Welcome, Praise Kink, Sensation Play, Spanking, Thighs, Tracer thinks she's clever, VERY NSFW language, Widowmaker thinks she's clever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:50:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8151262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: Widowmaker has no idea that Tracer speaks French, and Lena is having far too much fun listening to Amélie to let on, until that line between battlefield and domestic got a bit…blurry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Since I'm not a native French speaker by any means, I'm using brackets to denote where Widowmaker is using French until a very specific spot in the story. You'll pick it up. :)
> 
> EDIT: By popular request, an all English cut using the same bracketing notes for the French is now located here: http://redcap3.tumblr.com/post/152156116147/faux-pas-the-anglais-edit

Lena is fluent in French.

Of course she was – she’d spent a good portion of her adult life working as part of a UN sponsored multi-national taskforce, for god’s sake. Overwatch could be asked to serve anywhere in the world, and they’d need to co-ordinate with local forces, civilian contacts, and who knew what else. She might not speak a lot of languages well, but she at least knew the basics in Korean, Russian, German, Italian, and Swedish. Lena could carry on a half decent conversation in Japanese, even if reading it still took a few tries, and she’d been practicing Mandarin off and on with Mei-Ling when she’d shared an assignment with the adorable little climatologist to the point where she felt reasonably comfortable going to a restaurant and ordering dinner.

But she’d been fluent in French since before she signed up for the Slipstream. Studied it in school and had fallen in love with the fluid, poetic grace of it. Could even think in it, if she was using it regularly enough.

Most people didn’t even think to ask if the bubbly little girl in orange togs speaks anything other than English. Her light, high pitched speaking voice and slight build (forget the movies, there’s no such thing as a fighter pilot who weighs more than 190 soaking wet, and the majority are under 5’10”) tended to make people underestimate her. It was something that Lena had always been happy to use to her advantage, on or off the battlefield.

Or in situations like the one she was currently in, where that line between battlefield and domestic got a bit…blurry.

Laughing as she blinks out of the way of a bullet that would have shattered her skull otherwise, grinning at the purple clad shooter across the rooftop. Dashing towards her, firing a few shots from her pistols to force Widowmaker to keep her head down. “Aim a bit off today, luv? Feeling a little distracted?”

The sniper let out a frustrated growl before spitting out “ _< <Perhaps I would not be so distracted if you were not constantly showing off that delicious ass.>>”_ Widowmaker tries to make it sound like an insult, biting out that last bit out like it’s made of hot lead, and Lena laughs inside even as she does her best to keep up this little game.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t get that…uh…pahr-leeez vuuus Angleais?” It actually hurts a little to butcher those beautiful words, to torture her accent into such a crude noise, but ever since she realized that the blue skinned woman had _no idea_ that Lena understood exactly what she was saying in their little go rounds, she just had to see how far she could push things.

Besides, the little highlights of lavender at those gorgeous cheekbones were so fucking adorable when Widowmaker was really getting worked up.

“Please stop trying to speak with a civil tongue, _cherie._ It doesn’t suit you.” The Talon agent fires a venom mine with a flick of her wrist, muttering “ _< <Perhaps I ought to drag you home and put that tongue to better uses.>>”_, her voice sounding like the Overwatch agent had just run over her dog. Lena giggles, hopping to the side, turning it into a diving roll into cover.

“Aww, don’t be like that! We’ve been having such fun.” Her pistols reload as she takes a moment to recover her breath, the accelerator beeping softly as the power cell announced it was ready for a few more insults to the laws of physics.

The sound of Widowmaker’s grappling hook striking the brickwork behind her temporary respite grabs Lena’s attention, and she blinks away just before armor clad legs swing through where her head had been, the Talon agent giving a brief ‘hmph’ as she turns to where Lena’s now crouching, ponytail whipping dramatically back over her shoulder. _“ <<Not as much fun as we could be having.>>”_

Lena tosses a pulse bomb out, knowing Widowmaker will leap clear, but she feels like mixing it up a little. Bouncing to the next building over, wondering if anyone down on the street notices their little dance.

She can hear high heeled footsteps as the taller woman lands, hears the telltale whine as Widowmaker engages her visor to search for a heat signature. Lena learned a few weeks ago that if she stays near the HVAC units, it usually puts off enough heat and steam to help camouflage her, so she crouches down and tries to stay as still as she can.

_“ <<I ought to put a bullet in your skull and bury you, but the more we dance, the more I just want to see that pretty little face buried in my thighs.>>”_

Lena can feel her breathing getting fast and shallow, and she bites the inside of her cheek, trying to force her lungs to slow down. Keeping a poker face is the hardest part of this, Jesus Christ. That momentary distraction is why Lena doesn’t realize how close Widow has gotten. Her first warning is two hands pressing down on her shoulders from above, making her look up into 8 gleaming red optics.

“Caught you…” Widow’s voice is a satisfied purr now that Lena can feel right down to her socks, and for a long moment she almost wants to give the spider a chance to make the next move, but that’s not how this works, and they both know it.

Flashing a saucy grin, she reaches up, grabbing hold of the other woman in turn, and winks. “Not just yet.” Then Lena is throwing herself forward with a bit of extra momentum the accelerator has stolen from wherever they go when she pulls herself out of the grasp of reality, rolling her shoulder and throwing the older woman forward, hearing a surprised grunt of pain as she slams into the top of the building’s fire escape.

That’s probably enough for tonight – she’d clanged into similar obstacles before a few times, and knows how much a broken rib ruins the mood. Instead of following up with a quip (or a fist), she holsters her pistols and walks to the opposite edge of the rooftop.

“This has been a lovely evening, but I’m about due to go tuck Winston in. Ta!”

Lena doesn’t wait for a reply, just lets herself fall backwards, exhilarating in the rush as air whips past her body. As close as she can come to flying, these days. It’s not enough, but it’s something. Turning herself over in midair, timing a blink just right so she can hit the ground running, and after a couple of blocks, she doubles back, confirms she isn’t being followed for tonight, and makes her way back to the rendezvous point, where the rest of the team will be waiting.

* * *

It’s almost a month before she sees Widowmaker again, and it’s in such an unexpected context that she nearly misses her. Winston had sent a team over to Nice, of all places, to run security for a quiet meeting between the a representative of the Shambali and members of the _Conseil des ministers_ working to pass better Omnic Rights legislation. They’d been concerned about Talon taking an interest, but to their relief the meetings had gone off well, and the VIPs dispersed the day before. With a job well done (and a nice payment into Overwatch’s operating budget), the team on the ground had been offered a day to relax and see the city before returning to Gibraltar, which they’d happily accepted.

In her case, Lena had decided to avoid the tourist traps along the Riviera, and went into Vielle Ville, enjoying the narrow streets, browsing her way through the small shops and outdoor markets that sprung up near the Ponchettes. She’d done her best to dress casually, opting for dark slacks, a nice blouse she’d bought the day before beneath her harness, and a light grey coat belted on to help conceal her temporal life preserver.

She’d just been walking past a café’s patio when something about one of their patrons caught the corner of her eye. A flick of a long, dark ponytail that she’d recognize anywhere, and her breath caught in reflex.

Yes, there she was, dressed casually, her skin treated somehow (makeup, she assumed) to make her less alarming, enjoying a steaming demitasse. They locked eyes, and Widowmaker offered a seat with a slight nod of her head.

“Fancy seeing you here, _chérie_ ,” she observed as Lena settled across from her. “Out shopping?”

“Just enjoying a little time to myself after a job well done,” Lena frowned slightly as a thought occurred to her. “Though running into you, here, I suddenly wonder why it was so easy.”

Widowmaker’s shrug was so bloody Gallic that it made Lena want to scream. “Talon did not order me to interfere, and I did not see a need to do so.”

“That’s…huh.” Lena chewed her lip thoughtfully for a second, then smiled. “Thank you, I suppose? But if that’s not it, why are you here?”

“I have an apartment here,” Widowmaker explained, a smile tugging at those much too kissable lips. “Silly girl, did you think Talon kept me in a box somewhere?”

Lena felt herself flush with embarrassment. “I suppose I hadn’t…thought much about it. I always expected they kept a tight leash on you.”

“You are not wrong – but I have…a certain amount of leeway in some things.”

Lena was thinking about that as the waiter approached. Which is why she didn’t think about where she was, or who was sitting across from her when the spare looking man approached with a notepad in hand.

“Oui, s’il vous plaît?

“Je prendrai un thé au lait et biscuits s'il vous plait.”

“Quelque chose d'autres?”

“Non, merci.”

“Bien.”

Only after the waiter had retreated back into the café did Lena realize what had just happened, her eyes sliding over to a stunned Widowmaker, whose skin had a distinct blue tinge now under whatever she was using to disguise herself, lips slightly parted, eyes wide as dinner plates.

Lena’s voice was small and soft as she realized exactly how thoroughly she’d blown it, laughing nervously as she tried to recover. “Uh...jeez veaans practeece ca?”

The way Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed made it clear that she didn’t buy that attempt at a dodge. Blood draining from her face, Lena swallowed hard, unable to hold eye contact any longer, too embarrassed to even think of blinking away. “Oh, _fuck_ me.”

Widowmaker’s mouth twisted into a positively wicked grin as she ran a booted foot up Lena’s leg, her voice a husky whisper. _“Oh, pas encore, ma chérie.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm incredibly grateful to Callysto for doing beta and French translations, and to Jaydot for being a sounding board. :) Enjoy!

If someone had told Lena Oxton that she’d be sitting on the patio of a French café having tea with Widowmaker one day, she’d have laughed her head off. Or asked for a hit of whatever they’d been smoking.

Yet here they were, with Lena still struggling to regain her composure after blowing the little game she’d been playing with the Talon assassin for most of the past year. Pretending she couldn’t understand the increasingly escalating sexual innuendos and advances that Widowmaker had uttered as they fought, proud of herself for not _ever_ cracking under the pressures of combat or how _incredibly_ turned on she got from some of the Frenchwoman’s lewd suggestions.

And she’d just gone and fucked it by getting distracted and ordering her cuppa and a snack in French. Shit.

 “So,” Widowmaker purred, her booted foot still lightly stroking Lena’s calf, “how many languages _do_ you speak?”

Lena bit her lip, still trying to get her brain back in gear. “Well…”

Widowmaker raised one elegantly manicured finger. “You will answer me in French, and French only unless you wish to earn additional punishment. _C’est clair?”_

Despite herself, Lena felt warmth spreading through her core. _“Parfaitement_.” Straightening, she attempted to look at least somewhat casual and in control. _“Je peux à peu près tenir une conversation dans huit langues, mais je dirais que je ne suis vraiment bilingue qu’en Anglais et en Français.“_

The taller woman’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “It seems I must withdraw some of my earlier insults. Your tongue appears quite talented indeed.”

Lena wasn’t going to dignify that with a response.

A moment later the waiter returned with her tea and biscuits, and they sat silently for a moment after he withdrew, steam wafting up from the teacup. “Feel free to enjoy your drink.”

“ _Merci_ ” Lena sipped her tea, using it as a shield so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact with those – fucking _mesmerizing_ – yellow irises. She had to admit that finally speaking proper French with her, rather than pretending to be completely helpless, was rather enjoyable. A relief, if she was honest.

“So, what were your original plans for today?”

 “ _J’ai acheté cette blouse hier après avoir fini la mission. Je voulais trouver autre chose pour aller avec._ ” No point in lying now, was there _? “J’avais aussi prévu d’acheter à manger au marché avec une bouteille de vin, pour faire plusieurs petits pique-niques. J’ai besoin de manger beaucoup plus souvent qu’une personne normale à cause de ma… condition… donc je fais au mieux. ”_

Widowmaker nodded thoughtfully. “I had wondered if that might be the case. So, you would likely have been out all day, if we hadn’t encountered each other? No one was expecting you back for dinner?”

_“Voilà. Par contre j’aurais besoin de quitter l’hôtel où on est basé demain.”_

 Lena paused, then corrected herself. “ _Ça serait pas mal si je pouvais prévenir Winston que je rentrerais tard ce soir…”_

“The monkey?”

Lena’s eyes narrowed. “ _Le Scientifique. Où le “gorille” si vous tenez vraiment à être malpolie.”_

“Perish the thought, _chérie._ ” Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Call him. You may use English for this. Let him know you’ll be…occupied.” The smirk on that last bit…Lena was definitely turned on now, but the _cheek_ …or maybe because of that, if she was honest with herself. _Bugger me – I’m supposed to be the Top here! Usually. Dammit!_

Reaching into her coat, Lena pulled out her phone and quickly pulled up the speed dial for Winston’s lab, then waited for the line to connect and secure itself with a warbling beep.

_-Winston here._

“Hullo, luv! How’s the lab?”

_-Oh, good afternoon Lena! We’re fine here. How is Nice?_

“Oh, it’s lovely! The food, the shops, the people…that’s actually why I was calling.”

She could hear the deep sigh over the phone, and could just imagine the face he was making. _I’ll go ahead and guess – you won’t be back at the hotel until the rendezvous tomorrow?_

Lena giggled. “Got it in one!”

 _-I know how hard it can be for you to find someone who doesn’t..._ Winston’s voice trailed off with an embarrassed tone, then coughed. _Well, you know. Good luck, Lena. I hope it goes well for you. What’s the phrase there? ‘Cherchez le femme?’_

“Aww, that’s sweet of you, big guy.” Her eyes flicked to Widowmaker, who was watching her intently, the fingers of one hand lightly cupping her chin. “But I have a feeling she’s already looking for me.”

_-I see. In that case…good luck, Lena. Be careful? Please?_

Lena’s grin was a much more genuine expression than her usual ‘Tracer Smile’, and she was sure Widowmaker was making note of that, too. “When am I not?”

_-I strongly doubt you want me to go through the entire list._

“That’s so rude! Here I am being all responsible and calling in, even!”

Winston chuckled, and she could imagine him holding up a hand. _All right, Lena. All right. Have fun – and try not to be too late tomorrow morning? We can keep the Orca at the rendezvous, but I’d hate to pay the late check-out fees._

“Brilliant. Cheers, luv!” She hung up the phone, then slipped it back into her pocket. “ _C’est tout bon. Il faut juste que je sois de retour à l’hôtel avant 9:00 heure demain matin.”_

“Mm, so I gathered.” That booted foot was back, sliding up the inside of her calf and slowly pushing Lena’s legs apart, then scraping the sculpted heel back down to her ankle. “I also had the impression that it’s been a while? You poor thing.”

_“Pas beaucoup de femmes que ça excite de coucher avec un accélérateur de particule illégal.”_

“I suppose I see your point.” The pointed toes of her boot were sliding back up, resting against Lena’s knee, and just teasing the idea of exploring higher. “Shall we discuss the possibility?”

Lena’s shiver at those words had nothing to do with the breeze coming off the sea.

“Basics,” the assassin said, her voice taking on a whipcrack of intensity, “How do I…’check in’…with you?”

“ _Les couleurs ça me va. Vert c’est tout bon, jaune commencez à faire attention, rouge on arrête tout et on en discute?”_

 This was happening, Lena realized, her mouth dry. This wasn’t some weird dream, an idle fantasy in the shower, or some sort of drug induced hallucination. She was seriously negotiating a sexual encounter – a _scene!_ – with a woman who spent a good portion of her time trying to kill her.

“That will work,” Widowmaker agreed. “And the safeword?”

Lena thought about that for a moment. Amusing as a few of the possibilities were… “Slipstream.” If she got upset that Lena had used English for that, Widowmaker could stuff it.

Widowmaker raised an eyebrow. “Interesting choice. Memorable, given your history.”

“ _C’est un peu le but non?”_ Lena considered something else. Speaking of rules… “ _Comment devrais-je vous appeler?_ ”

“Mmm…” Widowmaker picked up her demitasse and made a show of draining the last of the dark liquid, Lena’s eyes drawn automatically to her inviting throat. “ _Madame_ will do for now.”

“ _Oui Madame.”_

“Oh, very good. You do learn so quickly.”

“ _Merci, Madame.”_ Lena barely resisted the urge to fidget at the praise. _Shit, I am too bloody gay for this._

“Finished with your tea?”

Lena nodded.

“Good.” Widowmaker stood, tossing a few bills onto the table to cover their checks. “Follow me.”

* * *

The building where Widowmaker kept her apartment was a short walk from the café. Lena was surprised at how normal it was, really. Yes, her rooms were on the top floor (with a stunning view of the sea out of the windows), but it wasn’t any kind of high security building or some kind of Talon front. She saw children running around the first floor as they entered, heard music coming from a hallway as they climbed the stairs. Just a normal set of flats, same as you’d find anywhere.

The apartment itself had been decorated to play to the views outside with lots of cream and blues, riding the line between elegant and spartanly furnished. More interestingly, as Lena looked around after being let in, was the lack of technology. Outside of the appliances in the kitchen, she couldn’t see a single piece of electronics. Nothing that could potentially be used for monitoring – not even a phone on the wall.

“Talon didn’t pick this place out for you, did they?”

Widowmaker paused from where she’d been taking stock of something in her kitchen, then shook her head. “ _Non.”_

“You said they allowed you some leeway. Will they know I was here?”

Widowmaker stepped back into the large front room, giving Lena a careful look. “No, as long as we do not draw any undue attention here. I keep this place private claiming ‘operational security.’ My orders and assignments are delivered by dead drops in a different part of town.”

Lena nodded. That made sense to her, and she wasn’t going to press things too much, but at the same time… “I assume you keep everything low-tech to avoid being bugged?”

“ _Précisément_.” She led Lena down a hallway, towards what had to be the master bedroom and bath, putting a little sway into her hips.  “I sweep for monitoring devices and cameras daily, to ensure my privacy. I’ve yet to discover any.”

Lena couldn’t help but smirk. “ _Vous ramenez souvent des filles ici, Madame_?”

Widowmaker just laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Pointing to a closet that seemed about the size of Lena’s kitchen back at her old flat in King’s Row, the assassin’s voice took on a snap of command again. “I will be taking a quick shower to remove this makeup. Hang up your coat, remove your shoes, and place them in there.”

Lena felt a hunger in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with food. “ _Je pourrais vous aider avec ça, madame.”_

Widowmaker turned with a throaty chuckle. “I’m sure…but it’s not what I have planned for you. Yet.” She let that hang in the air before stepping into her bathroom. “Sit on the bed when you finish. Touch yourself before I return and I will be very upset.”

“ _Oui madame.”_

She wasn’t sure what she expected to find in the closet, but it was almost boring in its normalcy. Casual outfits, pants, a few dresses. A rack of shoes, a few hats. Lena put her coat onto an empty hanger, then slipped her flats off and set them next to the rack.

_She must keep all of her weapons and gear elsewhere. Maybe a hidden cache just like the dead drops they’re using to send her orders?_

_This place is really hers. Not Talon’s. Not Widowmaker’s. Amélie’s._ Even knowing what was likely to happen when the woman in the other room finished with her shower, Lena felt like she’d been given a shockingly intimate privilege. She’d learned not to try using that name out loud (a bullet to the kneecap _hurt_ , even if you could rewind it away), but it was hard not to think of her that way in a place like this.

She sat at the edge of the bed, thinking that over, until the bathroom door opened again. Amélie stepped back out, a fluffy towel wrapped around her chest. Her skin was back to her ‘normal’ tone, somewhere between periwinkle and indigo, and Lena realized she must have kept her long hair under a shower cap while she had washed up. It was perfectly dry as she removed the pins keeping it tucked close to her scalp, falling in inky waves down her back after the older woman gave a little toss of her head.

 Lena felt like she was going to forget how to breathe if Amélie kept this up.

“Enjoying the show, _ma belle?”_

_“Vous êtes belle madame, magnifique, superbe.”_

Amélie gave a pleased little hum as Lena offered her praises, then settled herself by the headboard, Lena shifting around on the bed so she could keep eye contact. “Your vest,” she pointed to the glowing disc at the center of the Chronal Accelerator, “What do I need to know?”

“ _Puis-je parler Anglais, Madame?”_

“Yes, if it will be easier to explain.”

Lena nodded, then considered just how much she was comfortable saying. Amélie had offered her a great deal of trust, and she wanted to do the same in return…but Amélie could move apartments. Lena couldn’t quite expose herself completely. Not yet. That inequality of risk wasn’t a gap she could bridge in one afternoon.

“The harness can be loosened with the straps and buckles at the shoulders and waist.” That was true.

 “I usually give it enough slack to slip clothing on or off, but don’t remove it completely.” That was also true.

“In theory I could remove it for a couple hours without ill effects,” not entirely true, but she wasn’t comfortable going past that right now, “but unless I’m in a special room that's been configured to provide the same effects as the harness, and I have time to prepare myself to remove it, I get…” Lena paused, swallowed. “I often have panic attacks if I’m out of it for more than a few minutes.”

Also true, dammit.

The last time Winston had needed to take the harness off to do emergency maintenance, after the accelerator had been hit by a bad shot from McCree’s revolver in a training exercise, she’d almost passed out from hyperventilating.

Amélie took that in, nodding. “I promise that nothing you have told me leaves this room, _chérie._ ” Lena let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The older woman looked her over, then raised an eyebrow. “When I touch you, can I touch the harness, or will it be a problem?”

“That…is a question I can’t answer yet. It may depend on how I'm feeling when we get to that point. I'll give you a color if I can’t handle it.” On the incredibly rare occasions she’d found a lover who was game to deal with all of her physical (and mental) baggage (less than four since her accident, and the last had been before the Recall), Lena had strictly asserted herself as the dominant partner for just that reason. Giving up that control to Amélie was riding a narrow line between exciting and terrifying, and she hadn’t even taken her socks off yet.

“ _Je comprends,”_ Amélie leaned her head back, eyes flashing as she ran them slowly up and down Lena’s body, “Strip for me. It’s my turn to enjoy a show.”

Lena stood and went to the end of the bed. She wasn’t as good at the hip rolling walk, but she put as much sway into her steps as she could manage. Walking slowly across the room and then back, fingers sliding up and down the silky blouse, then teasing and cupping her breasts through the material, deftly avoiding the edges of her harness. Her eyes closed as she let her head tilt back, the bizarre foreplay they’d engaged in earlier making her ache to be touched.

“ _Oui,”_ Amélie breathed softly, “ _C'est bon. Très bien._ _Montre m'en plus.”_

Lena loosened the buckles at the base of her harness, then let her hands slide down to the waistband of her slacks.

“You may _not_ ,” Amélie instructed as Lena’s fingers disappeared beneath the band, “touch yourself down there without my permission.”

“ _Oui, Madame,”_ Lena pouted, her fingertips a heartbeat from doing just that, “ _je comprends.”_ Instead, she pulled back just enough to bring the waistband out, sliding it past her hips, bending forward a bit to accentuate her bottom. (Amélie _did_ seem to be an Ass Woman from some of her earlier comments.)

‘ _Madame_ ’ seemed to appreciate that, letting out a little sigh as Lena revealed the light blue panties she was wearing, stepping one leg free of her pants, then the other, just happening to turn so she would be facing away from the bed when she bent completely over, sliding her hands down her legs. Shame she didn’t know _this_ was going to be happening today or she’d have worn a nicer pair of lingerie instead of the boring old knickers.

“ _Délicieux_ ,” Amélie purred as Lena gave her a good look, _“Exquis, vraiment. Ne bouge pas._ _”_

Lena held her position, her hands resting lightly against her calves. She fancied she could feel a bit of wetness beginning to slide down her thigh, hearing the bed creak as Amélie changed position. Her breath hitched as cool fingers slid across her hips before cupping either side of her bottom and kneading, Amélie murmuring something under her breath that Lena couldn’t quite make out, but the tone of her voice was quite promising.

Lena was surprised on some level that Amélie wasn’t really all that cold. She’d expected skin to skin contact with her to be more of a shock, like touching a piece of refrigerated meat, but it wasn’t like that at all. The closest thing Lena could compare it to was if Amélie had just grabbed a bottle out of the cooler, and then touched Lena’s skin immediately after.

Amélie caressed and kneaded her through the soft fabric for several wonderful minutes, then withdrew without a word. Lena could hear the bed shift again, then the room fell silent for another long moment. Just as Lena started to think about asking for permission to ‘continue the show’, there came a sharp swat across the base of her buttocks, making her cry out more from surprise than pain.

“You lied to me, didn’t you, _ma douce?_ ” Amélie’s voice came from right beside her now, radiating displeasure.

Lena could feel her knees tremble just a bit, but managed to keep her voice level. “ _Oui Madame.”_

“By my count, you speak TEN languages.”

A second sharp swat, just slightly higher up from the first. _Oh, that’s where this is going, is it?_

“ _Oui Madame.”_

“Do you think you can handle eight more blows?”

” _Vert, Madame.”_

“Very good. But you will tell me if you start to get close. I am not granting you permission to come yet.”

 _Oh, fuck._ That was going to be a challenge, with the way she was getting worked up by all this.

“ _Oui Madame.”_  

The third strike wasn’t bad – slightly higher than the second, but the fourth hit her _just right_ , and she shuddered from the way her nerves lit up with both pleasure and pain. With a sniper’s precision, Amélie delivered the fifth in the exact same spot, and Lena felt like she was on fire. The sixth made her break into a sweat, breath exploding from her in a gasp, and after the seventh, she was barely able to cry “ _Jaune!”_

 _“Bonne fille,”_ Amélie murmured, leaning over to place a kiss at the base of her neck. “I will give you a moment. Do you need water? Food?”

“De l’ _eau Madame, s'il vous plaît.”_ She actually did feel a little peckish, but not so much that it was taking her out of the moment. Plenty of time for that later.

“Sit up on the bed, and don’t move.”

Lena got herself back up, her ass warm and throbbing against the bedsheets, begging her to move a little, to roll her hips, to get just a little _more_ , but she forced herself to stay still until Amélie returned, handing her a bottle of water. “ _Merci.”_

“Of course. You’re doing very well, _chérie._ ”

After drinking down half the bottle in one blissful pull, Lena couldn’t resist pushing things a little. “Everything you hoped for?”

“Oh, yes.” Now that she could look her in the eye, Lena could see that Amélie’s pupils were blown wide, her exposed skin flushed lavender. Resuming her spot at the head of the bed, she ran her tongue lightly over her upper lip. “You do something to me, you know.”

Lena finished the water before turning to face her. “I had that impression.”

“I don’t feel that way normally,” Amélie noted, “I shouldn’t be able to. I’m only supposed to get this kind of rush from fighting. From killing. But you…” a hand had casually slipped between the folds of the towel, and Lena’s mouth was suddenly dry again as Amélie teased her breast beneath the terrycloth, staring into her with eyes filled with need. “You do so many things to me, _chérie.”_

“When…did it start? Those feelings?”

Amélie shrugged. “After our third or four meeting I started to realize it was…different. That it lasted long past the end of the mission.” She looked a bit passed Lena, considering. “I think I finally understood what I was feeling around the same time we started our little game.” Her hand slid back out of the towel, crooking a finger towards the younger woman. “ _Viens ici.”_

Lena found herself coming around the bed almost before she finished speaking.

“So eager…” Amélie’s hand found purchase in her hair, drawing them together, and Lena didn’t resist. The first time they kiss it’s just a ghost of a touch, and then they’re trying to devour each other as if someone had thrown a switch. Lena’s lips parting as their kiss deepens, and Amélie’s questing tongue quickly finding her own. As she’s pulled closer, she tried to slide a hand down to that towel, to feel her skin, reach out to touch those bare legs that won’t stop, but the hand in her hair tightened sharply in response, drawing her back.

“ _Not yet_ ,” Amélie whispered, and it ran through her body like live electricity. Lena shivered as cool kisses trailed down her neck, dotted here and there with just a hint of teeth, making her gasp each time that Amélie nips at increasingly sensitive skin. _“C'est ça que tu veux?”_

Words wouldn’t come, but Lena did her best to nod against the hand still pulling just enough at her hair to keep her from moving away.

The kisses reached the base of her throat, Amélie’s other hand tugging down the buttoned collar of the blouse for more access. Lena’s breath hitched again as she felt a tug of suction against her skin, and she groaned when Amélie bit down, not quite drawing blood, knowing she’ll have a very obvious mark there when she returns home tomorrow. “ _On a toute les deux besoin de ça, non?”_

Lena felt the words against her skin as much as she heard them, and her answer is a wordless cry before Amélie released her shirt, slowly untangling fingers from her hair, teasing her with one last kiss before shifting back. “I have something for you…”

Lena felt like she was burning and she wanted the blouse off. Wanted the bra off. Wanted every stitch gone, and most of all she wanted Amélie’s towel off so she could repay some of the torment she’d been put through. “ _Quoi donc, Madame?”_

“First - Everything you can take off, comes off.”

_Oh, there is a God._

Lena stepped back, hands pushing her ruined panties to the floor, then kicking off her socks. If the blouse wasn’t brand new she’d probably be ripping it open. As it was she’s setting a speed record for undoing the buttons, then sliding the sweat soaked fabric off her shoulders so she can shrug her arm out of one sleeve, then the other, and letting it fall away. The plain bra she was wearing wasn’t so lucky. After two fumbles with the clasps in the front, she growled with frustration and just yanked it apart as hard as she could.

She needed a few new ones anyway.

She tightened the fittings of her harness back down by habit so ingrained it was practically reflex, then turned back to face the bed, where Amélie was reaching into a bedside drawer…and the towel was gone, revealing her in all her glory.

_I’d like to take a moment to thank God and the Universe…_

As if Amélie could hear her thoughts, she looked over with a smirk, then straightened up, something silver winking in her hands. “ _Oui,”_ she smiled, then gestured for Lena to come back over to her, “ _très bien.”_

As she reached her, Amélie held up what she’d taken from the nightstand. Nipple clamps, linked on a chain. “Do I want to know,” Lena wondered aloud, “how long you’ve been planning for something like this to happen?”

Amélie just smirked. _“à genoux.”_

Lena settled onto her knees, suddenly feeling nervous again as she looked up past the dangling silver chain and into hungry yellow eyes as Amélie sat at the edge of the bed.

“If I allow you to put these on yourself,” Amélie asked, her voice surprisingly gentle, “are you willing to let me tighten them?”

She thought about it a moment, then nodded as she held out a hand. “ _Oui Madame.”_ The slight shift in the power exchange was interesting – not quite on equal footing, but a recognition that she needed a little more control when it came to anything around her chest – and powerful.

Amélie dropped the clamps into her hand, eyes flashing with anticipation as Lena examined the business ends, turning the thumbscrew to open the rubber coated tips. Her nipples were already pebbled from their earlier play, and it didn’t take much to stiffen one, tugging it out just a bit to make sure she could get a good grip, then tighten the clamp just enough to hold in place, the gentle pinch turning a bit sharp as she repeated the operation with her other breast.

Lena took a long breath – it felt good but she needed a second to get herself ready for what was coming – then nodded. “ _Je suis prête.”_

Amelie leaned over, tightened the first clamp once, twice, three times – _hah, there’s the rest of that set of ten_ -, and Lena gasped as the pain started to outweigh the pleasure in the sensation. “ _Trop fort?”_

Lena gave herself a moment to take stock, settling her breathing, then shook her head. _“Vert, madame.”_

Amélie checked in after tightening the other side as well, but the more time she had to process the pain, the more Lena could find the pleasure in the clamps’ tight grip, the slight shocks as her chest rose and fell, the tension as the chain drew her nipples up. There was just enough slack as the chain crossed over the top of the accelerator’s housing for Amélie to slip her fingers around to tug gently, sending a burst of fire through her chest, lips parting in a ragged gasp.

“It’s a good look for you,” her lover purred, “but I could get a longer chain…”

Lena bit her lip to stifle another cry as Amélie gave the chain a second tug, this one less gentle, as if to illustrate the point. Shaking her head after it stopped swimming from the flood of sensations. “ _Non_ ça _va.”_ Yes, it was tight, and it hurt, but it still feels _good_ on more than a physical level. It made her feel like the big glowing widget wasn’t an _obstacle_ , and Lena started to realize how long she’d been lying to herself about how badly she’d needed that.

She looked up, trying to communicate all of that without words, and Amélie nodded thoughtfully before scooting forward a bit to leave her bottom against the edge of the bed, then laying back against the mattress. One of those perfectly toned dancer’s legs came up, sliding over Lena’s shoulder, drawing her in with just a little pressure against her back.

Amélie kept her dark hair neatly trimmed – no surprise, given the catsuit she wore when she was “working”, and the scent of her arousal was thick in Lena’s nose as she was drawn closer. Her skin darkened to a deep indigo at her folds, and Lena added a few more things her mind’s ‘I’m not sure I should be seeing this but I’m glad I did’ file.

“I think it’s time you put that talented tongue to use.”

It was a ridiculously cheesy line, and part of her wanted to laugh, but the rest of her was just happy to be there, and Lena didn’t waste a second. She reached up to stroke the outside of those cool thighs, drawing an encouraging murmur, then brought herself up a little higher on her knees so she could start to nibble at the lukewarm skin.

The pressure at her breasts had begun to transform into an ache, making her hesitate for a moment, but slim fingers stroked the top of her head, encouraging and grounding at the same time. There was a husky moan as Lena left a mark of her own on Amélie’s inner thigh, feeling the rising blood turn her flesh just a touch warmer, enjoying the contrasting shades of purple it created. Her fingers caressed and kneaded firmly at hips and buttocks to help find just the right angle as her head came down, savoring that first taste, flattening her tongue down as much she could before starting a slow upwards swipe.

“Beautiful,” Lena murmured between passes as she started to find a good pace, forgetting the ‘rules’ because they were well past that now, and they both knew it. “God, fuck, you are so beautiful.” She closed her lips against the other woman’s swollen nub, feeling her muscles tense in response.

 _“Encore”_ Amélie gasped, and the fingers in her hair tighten for just a moment before going slack again. _“Oui, là, juste là, juste là encore!”_ Lena looked up to gauge the effect as she applied just a little more suction, watching those yellow eyes close in response to the new attention, hearing her breath grow increasingly ragged. Her lips slipped away, and Lena’s tongue danced out again, tracing a teasing curve around the hood and back down in quick, sure motions.

 _“Presque… Je vais… Oui…Ma jolie petite chose…_ _J’ai besoin-”_

“Tell me.” Lena’s voice had become charged with want as her fingers stroked lightly over the slick folds, tracing up and back, feeling the hips beneath her buck in response. “Tell me what you need.”

“ _J’ai besoin que tu… Que tu… S’il te plait… rend-moi vivante!”_

Lena buried her head into her lover’s body again – just as Amélie had wished for that last fight – taking her into her mouth, her lips finding that perfect spot again. She gently let her teeth close against her lover’s clit, and sucked against it with a series of slow, steady tugs, the fingers that had been teasing against Amélie’s slit now slipping into her and moving in a matching rhythm.  

It wasn’t long before Lena could feel the steel spring of tension that had been winding itself up inside of Amélie snap as she clenched around her fingers, her back arching, crying out as she went rigid and then collapsing back onto the bed, an aftershock rippling the muscles of her stomach as Lena gave one last teasing lick before settling back down on her knees.

The only sounds for a long moment was their breathing, Lena’s slightly shorter and sharper thanks to the clamps, Amélie’s slower as she gathered herself back up.

“You should come here,” the Frenchwoman finally murmured, “the clamps need to come off.” Nodding, Lena waited for Amélie to slide over, making room for them both, then stole a kiss as she joined her on the bed, taking advantage of the taller woman’s lassitude to help her win their latest battle of tongues.

Amélie gathered a bit of her composure, then reached out to stroke the side of Lena’s face. “This will hurt.”

A shiver ran through Lena at the caress. She took a slow, deep breath, then sat back against the headboard, closing her eyes.

She felt a hand carefully supporting her breast, and then tingling numbness as the first clamp was quickly loosened and pulled cleanly away. For a moment, Lena almost said she was fine, and then the blood rushed back into the abused flesh, the intense stinging pain in that moment far different from what she’d gotten used to with the clamp in place. Her eyes watered, and the next thing she knew Amélie was drawing her in, carefully avoiding touching the slowly expanding skin so that Lena could bury her cry of pain in the other woman’s shoulder.

Amélie carefully stroke the back of her neck, avoiding the accelerator’s harness. “ _Tu t’es bien débrouillée. Tu peux te lacher._ _Tu as été tellement bonne. Laisse-toi aller, mon amour”_

The extra sensations distracted her jangled nerves, while the praise eased her mind. The pain slowly ebbed away, leaving only the pressure of the other clamp. Lena let herself be held for a little longer, then took another deep breath and straightened back up. “I think I’m ready for the other one now.”

Amélie nodded, shifting to make sure she wouldn’t accidentally touch anywhere that would still be too sensitive. This time Lena watched as the clamp was removed, and it didn’t really lessen the pain, but knowing it was coming seemed a bit easier for her than just anticipating. She let the tears fall this time, receiving more gentle touches and soothing words to help ease her down. Once Lena was able to sit back against the headboard again, Amélie produced a handkerchief from her dresser and she took it with a mumble of thanks before drying her eyes.

_“Encore un peu d’eau ?”_

_“Attend un peu,”_ Slipping back into French as another way to distract herself, Lena tried to take stock without focusing on the little jagged zaps of pain that ran through her chest as the abused nerve endings finished waking back up. _“Je crois qu’un peu a mange me ferais aussi du bien.”_

Amélie returned from the kitchen a few minutes later with another bottle of water in one hand, and a thick chunk of baguette that had been slathered in butter and topped with a few slices of dried sausage in the other, handing both to Lena before rejoining her on the bed. “ _Ca suffira?”_

  _“C’est Parfait, merci_ ” The meat and bread disappeared first, followed by the water, and by the time she’d finished both she was feeling halfway human again. “Just what I needed, really.”  _God bless French aftercare._

“I have had many more ideas for you – for us,” Amélie admitted after they’d curled back against each other, her arm wrapping protectively around Lena’s shoulders, “but I think you need a little time to recover, first.”

“Probably for the best, yeah. That…got a little more intense than I think either of us bargained for.” She’s had far worse first dates, though. Hell, Amélie had been more respectful of her boundaries and better at checking in as they’d gone along than she’d have ever expected possible.

Besides, there was time. Lena hadn’t bothered to look for a clock when they first came in, but when she looked out through the half drawn curtains, the sun hadn’t even dipped below the horizon yet. “Maybe a little nap, some dinner…and we can see what happens?”

“We shall see,” Amélie agreed, then stroke a finger slowly down Lena’s arm, a little of that dangerous purr back in her voice. “I seem to recall someone offering to help me in the shower.”

Lena couldn’t help but giggle softly. _“Ca me dit effectivement quelque chose, madame.”_ The combination of a full stomach and the flood of endorphins in her system left her limbs feeling deliciously heavy, and it wasn’t long before she’d slipped into a blissful rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you wanted it, you got it kids. What happens next? Well, we'll see, won't we...
> 
> Translations and a little present can be found here: http://redcap3.tumblr.com/post/151702943582/faux-pas-translations


	3. Chapter 3

When Lena woke, the sun had marched further towards the sea, but it was still a young evening – she’d bet it wasn’t much past seven thirty, eight at the latest. Long habits as a pilot had required her to check the sun and tide charts in the weather report before she’d left the hotel, and sunset wouldn’t be until almost nine tonight. More than twelve hours before she’d have to go back to check out of her hotel and pretend…well, not that something hadn’t happened, but certainly not tell the truth about who it had happened _with._

That thought stuck with her until she felt the woman who was still holding her stirred a few minutes later, stretching a bit before murmuring _‘Bonsoir’_ into her ear.

“I have to ask something,” Lena slid gently from Amélie’s embrace so she could turn to make eye contact, “is this…did you intend for this to just to be a one night thing? Or could something like this happen again?”

“Do you want it to?”

“It would be dangerous. Maybe even more for you than for me.”

“That’s not what I asked, _chérie._ ”

Lena surprised herself with how quickly she answered. “Yes. I do.”

“Then, yes, it could happen again.” Amélie’s eyes turned a bit wicked. “I personally have plans for it to happen at least two more times tonight.”

Lena snorted, but she wasn’t upset by that idea one bit as she settled back against Amélie again. “I suppose I do love a challenge. But when do I get to indulge a few fantasies, eh?”

Amélie’s hand slipped up to lightly cup Lena’s breast, drawing a groan as she teased one still sensitive nipple. “Perhaps we should both write out a list.”

“Sounds…ah…like a fun idea to me…” The ache between Lena’s legs had eased quite a bit after their earlier play, the food and the nap calming things down, but she could feel it returning as cool hands began to explore her.

“For now, though,” Amélie began to kiss the freckles that peppered Lena’s shoulders and neck, her lips gently moving over the shoulder straps of her harness, then back to her bare skin, “I told you that I had plans for you, _ma douce_ …”

Lena’s only response was a soft groan as teeth sank into her neck where it met her shoulder. Some part of her made a mental note to stop at the chemist for some concealer before she tried to go back. Maybe a whole case, if this was going to be a regular thing. Which was _crazy_ but at the same time… _Can I do this? Can_ we _do this_? Her mind whirled with questions and doubts, but then one cool hand stroked over her belly, and all she could care about was _here_ and _now_.

 _“Je veux te goûter”_ Amélie murmured huskily, “ _Je veux sentir chaque centimètre carré de ta peau._ ” Lena felt the weight on the mattress shift behind her, and then surprisingly strong arms were lifting her up enough to roll her over on her back as the taller woman found leverage, cool lips muffling her squeak of surprise.

When the kiss broke, Lena gasped as Amélie lightly bit her lower lip, tugging gently before letting her fall back.

“Mm…I thought we were thinking of dinner first,” Lena teased, then arched as her lover’s tongue teased the bite mark she’d left earlier at the base of her throat, drawing another gasp of pleasure as Amélie’s mouth progressed up her throat, “not that I’m complaining!”

“ _You_ mentioned dinner, _chérie.”_ Amélie left another kiss at the tip of Lena’s chin, then slid her hips over to straddle her willing captive with a satisfied smirk. “I…am sure we’ll get there eventually.” Fondling one perfect handful of pert breast, she shifted her weight to one side, bringing the other knee up to slide between Lena’s thighs, slowly putting just a bit of weight and pressure down to grind against her. “ _Mais d’abord, je veux te voir venir pour moi…”_

“Ohhh, _fuck_ ,” Lena’s voice was almost a growl as her hips arched, working to get just a bit more delicious friction against her.

Amélie’s look of unrestrained lust almost did the job by itself as she chuckled, then began to rock back and forth. “ _C’est vrai que tu me l’avais demandé tout à l’heure…”_

Lena bit down on her lower lip as Amélie’s leg moved against her like a slowly expanding shockwave as she slid back and forth. She tried to close her legs a bit to give herself some extra purchase to move, only to have her knee firmly moved back again.

“Don’t close your legs,” Amélie whispered huskily into her ear, “and don’t bother keeping your voice down. “ _J’veux t’endendre_ … _J’veux te voir gémir et crier pour moi.”_

Turning her head, Lena hungrily seized those filthy lips with her own, her turn to explore the sweet and cool well of the other woman’s mouth, a bit of her taste still mingled on her lips. Their breasts and bellies pressed against each other as Amélie made a throaty sound of approval.

Disengaging, the older woman’s breath was coming almost as sharp and ragged as Lena’s now. “ _T’as le droit de me toucher aussi, crétine”_

Lena didn’t need encouragement, but a not-so-subtle shift in Amélie’s thigh to give her more to grind against didn’t hurt. As Lena let out a cry, her hands slid up that cool back, fingers digging in to toned and trained muscle under satin skin. Stroking and squeezing as she rocked against Amélie’s body, the pressure against her hood and lips adding fuel to the fire that had been rekindled after they’d woken together.

Amélie arched into her touch as Lena raked her fingers down her lover’s shoulders, her breaths growing shorter as the tension built inside of her. “Please… _fuck_ …please, Madamé…please Amélie I’m _so close!_ ”

Amélie’s voice filled Lena’s ear as one cool hand drifted down, the Frenchwoman’s thumb firmly pressing a slow circle against her desperately aching clit. “ _Je veux que tu viennes pour moi, j’veux que tu viennes maintenant, et j’veux t’entendre crier mon nom_.”

The combination of the husked command and the additional sensations pushed Lena over the edge. She felt as if a broad elastic band had been drawn taut and then snapped inside of her as a sudden gush of wetness exploded from her core. Overwhelmed by the intensity of her release, the last thing she heard before everything went black was her own keening voice: “ **AAAAAMÉLIE!** ”

* * *

Thanks to her experiences with the Slipstream, Lena was pretty good at judging gaps in her own personal timeline. This one had probably only been about ten, maybe fifteen seconds, but the root cause of that blackout was _much_ better than the usual issues with her “temporal fidelity,” as Winston liked to put it.

Amélie had laid her back down on the bed and was looking at her with wide, surprised eyes as Lena propped herself up slowly on her elbows, blinking a few stars out of her vision. “ooogh. Wow, hullo, luv. Problem?”

“Aside from the fact that you passed out?” The Frenchwoman’s face shifted to a slightly more sardonic smile as she realized Lena was unhurt. “You have made a very impressive mess.”

Lena looked back down towards her (sore, a bit sticky, deliciously aching) body and saw the wide, damp stain that spread out and away from where they’d been intertwined – no, that term was too polite; where they’d been fucking – on the bedsheets. “Oh.” she murmured quietly, then blushed. “Whoops. Sorry, that’s…wow. Been quite a while since that happened.”

Amélie arched an eyebrow, and Lena couldn’t help but shake her head with a snort. “Oh, don’t you start. I had a nice and regular girlfriend for a couple years before I went up in the Slipstream, and she only got that kind of squirt out of me twice.”

The assassin let out a quiet, thoughtful noise, then leaned in for a lightly teasing kiss. “If nothing else, it’s good to know you can keep score.”

Lena hid the wave of emotion that remark brought in her with a laugh. “Well, I guess I’m not the only one who likes a challenge.”

“Indeed.”

Stretching and feeling her back and shoulders pop underneath the weight of the accelerator’s harness, Lena let her head loll back into one of the pillows, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “Well. Think we could both use that shower now.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Dinner after?”

_“Parfait, chérié”_

* * *

Lena made it to the hotel the next morning with fifteen minutes to spare before checkout to collect her bags. Rumpled clothes mostly hidden beneath her coat, legs a bit wobbly, concealer that didn’t quite match her skin tone caked on her neck and chin.

Angela gave her a rather dubious look when they met in the lobby, but given that Fareeha was walking almost as gingerly and hadn’t been able to find a good shade to conceal the rather lurid looking hickey on the side of her neck, Lena just giggled and shrugged it off with a wink as they left the hotel. Once the group had assembled and the keys were turned in, the undercover agents walked a few blocks to a blind alley, then snuck aboard the waiting Orca before flying out of the city.

If a woman was sitting on her balcony, smoking a cigarette as she watched the stealthy transport craft lift off, no one noticed.

If that woman kissed her fingers before gesturing in a little wave as the transport disappeared between a few clouds, no one could see.

If she sighed wistfully before flicking the cigarette butt off the balcony rail, then spent a long moment forcing herself to restore the expressionless mask that she would be expected to wear, no one could know.

* * *

Nine months after their first night together in Nice, Lena knew quite a few more things. Some of them rather silly. Some of them rather touching. Some of them downright sexy.

Lena knew that Amélie might not care for Talon, but they had a grip on her that, despite her apparent freedoms, the assassin could not break by herself.

Lena knew that the Widowmaker remembered every kill she ever made, all the way back to the very first, and that she carried the weight of each one, even if she rarely allowed anyone to know.

Lena knew that the emotionless aspect the sniper presented on the battlefield was partially an act, partially conditioning – and that there were some things she felt very deeply indeed.

Lena knew that occasionally she would find a phone number in the classified ads of a paper in Numbani, and that she could use a special code when she dialed it to receive the name of a city, the name of a hotel, and a date.

Lena knew that on some of those nights, she woke from nightmares to find cool blue arms wrapped around her, and a softly murmuring voice speaking to her in French.

In that time, Amélie learned quite a few things as well.

Amélie knew that Tracer was not necessarily the same as Lena, the same way that Widowmaker was not necessarily the same as Amélie.

Amélie knew how to safely remove Lena’s harness.

Amélie knew that she would _never_ allow Talon to have that knowledge.

Amélie knew that Lena enjoyed sitting on the rooftops sometimes and just watching planes pass between the stars and the night sky, wistfully talking about what it had been like to be the pilot in command of some of the most powerful craft to slip the bonds of gravity.

Amélie knew that there were nights Lena needed to have a clock next to her bedside so she would instantly know what time it was when her eyes opened.

Amélie knew that Lena loved to go on midnight picnics, enjoying their food with a bottle of good wine and quiet company.

Amélie knew that if she saw a real estate posting for a condo or apartment from a company called “Bolthole & Hideout Ltd.,” she should visit within 48 hours.

Amélie and Lena both knew that when the morning came, or orders arrived, they couldn’t be Amélie and Lena, and that Widowmaker and Tracer had jobs to do.

Lena knew that Amélie would never take the killing shot.

Amélie knew that Lena would never completely press that advantage.

It was nothing like a healthy relationship – could people like them ever have such a thing? It worked, though, and plenty of people in ‘normal’ relationships couldn’t say the same.

* * *

Just over a year after they’d reached their understanding at the café, Tracer was swinging beneath Widowmaker’s outstretched grapple line, knocking the Talon agent’s legs out from under her. “ _T’as trouvé le cadeau que je t’ai laissé dans la chambre d’hôte le mois dernier_?”

Widowmaker rolled across the gravel and tar rooftop, her ponytail flicking dramatically as she wiped a bit of bright red blood from the corner of her mouth. _“J’ai beaucoup aimé le nouveau harnais. Comment t’as réussi à trouver un cuir et de la silicone de la même couleur que ma peau_? ”

Tracer smirked as she reloaded her pistols, stitching a line of small caliber pulse rounds across the rooftop before diving into new cover. _“C’est dingue tu sais ce qu’on peut trouver sur internet de nos jours.”_

Widowmaker’s snort would have sounded derisive to anyone else, but Lena knew what Amélie really meant. “ _Bah voyons._ ”

Taking advantage of a moment of hesitation, Tracer threw herself forward, blinking as she grabbed the taller woman’s shoulder, preparing to throw her into a judo flip, just as she had overpowered Widowmaker in what had turned out to be the final round of their old game, last year. “ _T’as ramené de quoi s’amuser avec toi?”_

Widowmaker smirked as she threw herself backwards, stealing Tracer’s momentum and using it against her. “Not this time, _chérie_.” Slamming the Overwatch agent down hard into the brick crown of the building, she rolled gracefully to her feet, turned, and knelt down, driving the air from the British woman’s lungs with a hard knee to her middle. _“Quelque petits trucs. Dont un qui je pense te plaira beaucoup…_ _”_

Tracer coughed, sucking in air despite her aching diaphragm, then hocking away a bit of spit before she could speak. _“Oh par pitié dis-moi que tu as ramené la corde avec le machin électrique au bout. J’espérais vraiment la revoir…”_

Widowmaker smirked, her fingers grabbing the straps of the accelerator harness where they crossed over the rise of Tracer’s shoulders, yanking her up to her feet…and subtly slipping a hotel room key down the open throat of the smaller woman’s bomber jacket. _“Et te ruiner la surprise, chérie ? Maintenant fais-moi rêver, et t’auras une récompense ce soir._ _”_

Tracer scowled, face contorting into a snarl, then snapped her head back sharply before driving forward in a wicked head butt, the reinforced material of her goggles slamming into the well-padded crown of Widowmaker’s recon visor, the Talon agent’s hands opening in reflex as she staggered backwards. _“Ca t’ira ça?”_

Stumbling, Widowmaker caught herself against the brickwork, her eyes unfocused as she tried to glare at her nemesis. _Oops,_ Lena winced internally, _maybe I made it look a little too good._ She had been looking forward to a bit of fun tonight, not spending it making sure her lover didn’t suffer complications from a concussion.

As if reading her mind, the assassin raised her arm, eyes focusing again on a rooftop behind her lover. _“Bien joué. Je te rejoindrais bientôt.”_  Firing her grapple, Amélie locked eyes with Lena, her molten gold gaze glittering with a heat that had nothing to do with anger as the hook bit into the nearby building. “ _Tu sais que j’aime les lumières.”_

Lena expected to hear the sound of a winch to engage, for the dangerous woman to disappear into the night until her lover snuck quietly into their hotel room through a window she’d leave open for that very purpose.

What happened, instead, was Amélie suddenly going a pale powder blue as the blood drained from her face.

The grappling hook’s claws released, Amélie’s outstretched hand falling to her side, and the cable made a soft zipping sound as it automatically withdrew back into the housing on her forearm.

Lena spun on one foot, turning to see Mercy standing there, her pistol pointing uselessly at the ground in slack fingers. She must have landed on the rooftop while they had been too wrapped up in each other to notice.

Mercy, who must have overheard almost their entire conversation, her face scarlet with a raging blush.

Angela Ziegler, who had grown up in Switzerland speaking German…and French.

Angela’s mouth worked soundlessly, trying to work through her shock, her eyes flashing with a mix of surprise and something very close to outrage.

Lena looked at Amélie, her face twisting in chagrin. Amélie looked back, embarrassment bringing a darker color back to her face.

Both women looked at the doctor, and uttered the same words in uncanny unison.

_“Et merde…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations are located here: http://redcap3.tumblr.com/post/152138899332/faux-pas-chapter-3-translations
> 
> Enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> I am a terrible person.
> 
> This is NOT part of the Odette!AU stories I've written, but the idea hit me and it's a nice piece of fluffy garbage, innit?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Faux Pas](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15353967) by [Annapods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annapods/pseuds/Annapods)
  * [Faux Pas (Anglais Edit)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568236) by [bzarcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher)




End file.
